


Can I Take Your Order?

by Mr_Beans



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Love/Hate, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Beans/pseuds/Mr_Beans
Summary: Victor Nikiforov is the proud owner of one of the lowest earning location of the popular food franchisee the ice tiger. things can be rough going staying afloat, but Victor has never one to say no to the challenge. though sometimes the biggest challenge is accepting help.





	Can I Take Your Order?

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of swearing because all food retail workers use up all their daily swears and about half of the rest of the worlds daily swears too. Sorry fam.

We have a policy about hairstyle in the "official" handbook, as part of the company “image” but personally I have never cared for the company image to begin with. The new hire wore his hair buzzed on the sides, and long down the middle, long enough to fall in his eyes as he leaned forward to read over his paperwork. I have always had a disdain the paperwork aspect of managerial duties, sign here, read this, staple here, invoice there, boring sitting at a desk work. If I wanted to have a desk job I could have taken the one practically handed to me upon graduation. A job of sitting, water cooler drama, and being told where to sign. I’ve done my fair share of internships, I know the Tea. None for me thanks, I want a job where I can see people, solve problems, and make people happy. And what better way to make people happy than with food?

“I sign here?” New Hire Altin looked up from his paper, tapping a dotted line at the bottom.

“Yes, print your name, then a signature.” I know I must look eager, leaning on my elbows resting my head on my laced fingers, knee bouncing, but the next part of hiring is what I look forward too. He signs, and I all but leap to my feet, taking the offered pen and staple paper from his hand, noting his black hoop earring, another “infraction” as some may say, a quirk as I prefer to call it. Nothing sells food better in this day and age than quirks.

“Perfect, now if you’ll follow me” I toss the paper on my desk of discarded papers, and lead him into the kitchen, where the absolute beauty of organized chaos is at its finest. I can tell just by looking that everything is going perfectly as it should. Though judging by the furrowed brows of my newest employee, it looked like all hell had broken loose.   


“This is the kitchen, and while you learn the menu, the place you will be spending most of your time,” I give the kitchen a wide sweep with my arm, “we have our line chef’s, who will sound much meaner than they actually are until they clock out, and our prep team who will talk your ear off the minute I leave you with them.” I sweep him to the back room filled to the top with boxes, “this is the storeroom you will keep all your personal belongings there until the end of your shift,” I wave dismissively, before turning to the front, pushing open the doors of the kitchen into the dining area, I adore the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, the rush of seeing an order and racing to beat your best time to get it out to the customer with style and grace that our chain is known for. I live to work with the prep team, cutting and washing produce with a precision that is a staple for our cuisine, but the dining area? That is where I thrive. With a single scan of the restaurant I can see already three regulars sitting with their families and that’s just within view of the kitchen doors, I itch to walk up to their table, my fine uniform pressed, and tucked in all the right places, my finger’s hovering on their table gently for only a moment, as I give them a warm smile and ask how they’ve been, the couple in the corner just last week had sent their son off for college, and couldn’t wait to celebrate their new lives, the family in the corner had just lost their family dog, a month ago, but had last talked about their neighbor who had puppies on the way. I couldn’t wait to talk with them chatting for hours, to hear their gossip and take away all their stress in exchange for food I truly loved. I lift my hand taking a breath to start my tour for our new hire, the thrill of showing my world off to someone is my favorite pastime. After all, I LOVE people.   


“Nikiforov, is this where you’ve been for the past hour?” the wind is blown from my sails as the bane of my existence appears, his expression is kind and warm but in the time he'd been working here i'd learned that this glint in his eyes meant he was absolutely furious, and was only saving face for customers.   


“Katsuki! I thought you were out to lunch,” I give him a winning smile, a smile that once was genuine, but now is just me refusing to show how very much this man irked me to the core, a food retail habit I have perfected to an art. 

We are ushered into the kitchen which is sure sign a scolding is on the horizon. Since his first day here over a month ago, Yuuri Katsuki had nothing but hell to say about me and the way I run my restaurant. I worked my way up to this position, I drug this location back from the dead, who cares if the way I do things doesn’t “follow the standard”? I didn’t need this big shot from the “highest earning” location in my hair to do that, and I wouldn’t need it to keep this place in its climb to the top! Though Mr. Hot-shot-suki had other ideas.

  
“There are two tables that need to be bused out there, and at least three orders that came out entirely wrong.” Katsuki scolds, “and all without a manager to be seen.” The plan of course was Katsuki was to stay out of lunch so that this situation wouldn’t occur, I had planned to make things a mess for new hire Altin to see how things work at their worst, but Mr. Kat-stick-up-his-ass couldn't ever see things that way, no all things have to be “perfect” all the time, even though the very essence of food retail is absolutely everything going wrong and smiling your way straight through it.   


“You’re a manager,” I reminded him, with a smile, leaning back on my heels.

  
“I am A manager, you are THE manager.”    


“I thought you were THE manager isn't that why you're here?” I say with such sweetness that I hope he rots hearing it. Katsuki shoves his glasses up his nose violently, at the end of his rope with me already and it’s only noon. The feeling is mutual Mr. Katsuki, believe me.

  
“Not this again! We don't have time!”    


“You're right, come on Altin I'll show you the dining room now,” I put my hand out guiding him through the door. Mr. Kill-joy-suki slams his hand on the door frame.   


“I'll show him around, you fix those orders! And for the love of god wear a hat!”  If any other employee took that tone with me, they would be out the door before they finished their outburst, their belongings tossed out on the pavement. I threw my hands up turning and calling him every rude thing my cousins taught me in Russian. In return he muttered something in whatever version of Asia he was from before fuming into the kitchen.

  
It was always like this, since the very first moment he walked in. He had the nerve to tell my best waitress her hair was too unnaturally red to work in the dining room, that my kitchen manager had to shave his hardly noticeable mustache, and that entire freezer had to be reorganized. It was an absolute nightmare, and I'm still waiting for it to stop. There had been a blissful period where I'd deceived myself into thinking the new manager would be nice to have around, on paper he sounded like a dream come true. He'd been something of a new comer to the business, but I’d heard on good intel about him, even saw his managing in action Frankly, I'd falling in love with the way he spoke with customers, like family, old friends, bright and happy, always had mints in his apron for kids, he smiled like an angel, eyes warm and bright, a natural at making these customers feel at home. Raised in a family owned bed and breakfast, top of his culinary classes and generally blowing me away with every move he made, I couldn't possibly say no when he was sent to our location. But I should have, because nothing is ever that wonderful.   


Tldr? He's bossy, but hot as fuck.

Fixing orders takes less than a moment, the only issue being we are shorthanded, the start of school semesters is always killer on keeping us well staffed, and maybe I'm more irritated because of that and my three days of back to back full day shifts to make up for our shorter staff, but why the fuck is he in the dining room? Katsuki was the culinary student here, he was supposed to stay here while I was out their smoothing things over with the general public. and who said he could decide otherwise? honestly he insists on stifling the joy out of every aspect of my life. 

It's a fifty fifty working a shift with him. Some days he is this bossy ass, who can't be wrong and has no time for my shit, and others we hardly talk and things go smoothly. I swear he has no chill, though my staff say otherwise. Apparently when I am not here he is stern, but never gets into screaming fights with anyone. just me, which cement's the idea that he just really fucking hates me. 

I spent the rest of the day in the kitchen, directing my crew through lunch rush, and prepping for the night crew. I was doing my job exactly how I knew to but no matter what I did he would poke his head in, and find the dumbest insignificant thing to nitpick, always something I did, then just up and leave without so much as a please or thank you. I mean, yes he's been working long shifts this week yes, but for the love of god.

“Hey Victor? We are out of romaine.” Yuri, approached me, in his constant air of annoyance.

“We are? Produce came this morning,” I don't look up from cutting vegetables.   


“Don’t know what to tell ya.” Yuri folds his arms. I put the knife down from its rapid mutilation of carrots, drying my hand on the towel over my shoulder, walking to the fridge.

It is just as I throw the door open, that the kitchen door opens and Katsuki bursts in.   


“Where is table 4’s salad they have been waiting 15 minutes.” From a first glance I can see we are in fact completely out of romaine lettuce.   


“We can't make it, there isn't any Romaine,” Yuri can be heard saying. I run through the produce order in my head, I had filled out what we needed, I had put it on the desk, I remember writing the email. I pull out my phone as Katsuki pushes past me to step into the fridge scanning every box we have as if he could magically make it lettuce.   


“You didn't order romaine,” he says it like a fact more than a question.   


“I did,” I flip through emails to our grocer stepping forward to let the door close keep the fridge from getting too warm.   


“Well obviously you didn't,” Katsuki was crouched over looking over boxes on the bottom shelf. and I swear to god it would be great if I could make up my mind if I hate him, because his ass is heavenly from this angle.   


“I did.”   


“You probably just got distracted chatting up a costumer,” he stood, not even a glance my direction. I could feel my blood boil at that, and for once, I couldn't fake a smile, couldn't even think of a joke to dismiss him.   


“Are you serious? Who the hell do you think you are?” my breath was hot enough for me to see it. He reaches for the door to walk away from the situation. I grab his wrist pulling him to face me. His warm eyes look wild, furious and ready to tear into me.

“I am the guy wasting my life trying to help your food truck of a restaurant from going bankrupt!” He yanked his hand away.

“I was doing fine before you decide to stick your amateur nose into my business acting like I owe you a goddamn thing!”

He laughed, actually fucking laughed at me. and something in me must have snapped.

"You think that's funny huh? Motherfucker, you think it's so easy? that you can just walk into a kitchen acting like Gordon Ramsay in my fucking kitchen? You want to be the boss kid? Want to pay the bills, put in orders, find ethical and quality ingredients? Fine, fucking Fine!” I turned from him grabbed the handle of the fridge “I'm done, Tell Yakov I fucking quit!” I push on the door with enough force to make the heavy door fly open, or what should have been enough force to open the door, but instead the door stood stubbornly closed. There was a pause, before I tried again, jiggling the door knob this time, before slamming my shoulder on the door. Katsuki snorted, walking up to the door.

“It's just tricky, the hinge is loose,” he planted his feet, pulling the handle, and pushing with his shoulder. The door remained closed tight. He struggled for a bit, to no avail.

“Just tricky hm?” I laughed He shot me a glare. His glare was so cute when I was right. “Well manager, what do we do?” I fold my arms, leaning back on my heels. His glare turned into a scowl. 

I watched him pull his phone out of his pocket, dial a number, and turn away. After a moment he cursed and started redialing. I pull my phone out and call my head chef Chris and get him on the line immediately.   


“Um, Victor? I just saw you?”

“The fridge door is stuck with me inside, can you let Mila know that she's the head waiter and also rally people to pry the door open?” Katsuki shoots me a look, I smirk.

“You're locked in the fridge?” Chris sounds more amused than anything.

“Yes, and Katsuki is in here too.” Chris laughs then I hear his voice talking, to Mila, probably. 

“Hold on I’ll, Yuri, Leo, new kid, the fridge is locked up again, see what you can do.” The phone gets quiet, the sound of cooking pausing in the background, I hear muttering through the door and step back grinning. Katsuki folds his arm, unable to admit he was wrong. The door jiggles, up and down, then stops.   
“Victor, um, it's not budging.” I force myself not to look at Katsuki, knowing he was close enough to hear that.

“Okay, well, I will call someone, you keep the kitchen working like a well-oiled machine.”

“Naturally, we'll see you when you get out, don't kill Yuuri,” Chris advises before hanging up. I pulled my phone from my ear, just as Katsuki put his to his ear again.

“Hi yes this is Yuuri Katsuki of the Ice Tiger, yes the door on one of our fridges seems to be stuck shut, can you send someone over?” He raised his brows at me, grinning like a cat with a mouse. I felt my face flush, I was just about to call them! Don't act so smug.   


“Okay great! Thank you so much.” Katsuki made a point to hang up, smiling smugly. I scoffed, walking to the stack of sauce buckets, sitting down, and pulling out my phone to at least start on emails while I had time. Katsuki folded his arms, sighing a small plume.    


The space went dead silent, for about five minutes. I pretend to write emails, instead watching Katsuki from the corner of my eye. He was reading boxes, signs, looking at everything except me, intentionally avoiding the full corner I sat in. That pisses me off almost more than all the insults he's ever flung at me. I knew he had to hate me, he was so kind to everyone else, Chris always talked about how shy and funny he was “a flirty drunk” as well. Katsuki would never go out for drinks with me, but I had a feeling if he did, it would be to tell me how lazy and horrible I am at everything. It sucks most if all because when we first met, all I could think about was how sweet and kind he was, his pretty eyes, soft lips. I was so damn excited for him to work by my side.    


I guess my gaze was obvious, as eventually he brought his eyes up to meet mine, blinking once, before opening his mouth, then closing it again looking away. God, he can't stand me.   


“Is it because my uncle owns the franchise?” I asked. Katsuki looked up brow furrowing.   


“What?”    


“Is it because I come off as flirtatious in professional settings?” He blinks, “my hairline, the way I walk? My car, or just my general existence…” he looked lost for a moment before he realized what I was talking about.   


“No, there's nothing wrong with you…”   


“That is not what you said 10 minutes ago,”

“Nikiforov don't be childish…”   


“I'm childish? You're the one playing favorite.”   


“What the hell are you-”   


“Yakov this, Yakov that, in the lead restaurant we don’t do that, elbows in, wear a hat, stay in the kitchen, Everything I do is wrong!”    


“I am trying to-”   


“Yeah yeah trying to save the restaurant, because when you were studying for finals and making shitty apple art in culinary school I wasn’t doing just that or anything. pulling this place from the ashes. No, you’re right, I didn’t get a degree in smearing butter on bread and making cronuts, so I don’t know jack about restaurants!”   


“I never said you didn’t!”    


“You practically scream it every day!” I understand that he must be pretty taken aback, especially since for the most part I have never told him I hate his treatment of me. the information doesn't seem to be taken well though.   


“You are so,” Katsuki shook his head, stepping closer. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong with you!”    


“I’m sorry I’m something you have to fix that must be so hard for you!”   


“I swear!” His hands are balled into fists, and he looks ready to punch me in the jaw.   


“I am serious about quitting Katsuki, so I won’t be your concern ever again, how about that?”

“You are insufferable!  So, pig headed, so absolutely intolerable I don’t know why I would ever think!” he threw up his hands turning away.   


“I’m insufferable?!” I close in, not letting him run away from this conversation too.   


“Yes!”

  
“How about having the one thing you genuinely care about treated like garbage, and no being able to do a thing about it without getting fired? How about some kid fresh out of culinary school telling you what to do like some fucking hotshot?” It only then occurred to me how close I have gotten to him, and am full on screaming at him, when I meet his eyes, those gorgeous eyes, that I was willing to do anything to see every day. 

Katsuki glares daggers up at me,  “I was top of every class, working against men you could only dream of being as skilled as, maybe that means nothing to you Nikiforov, but thanks to it, I am your fucking boss.” Katsuki jabs his finger just above my heart, "and there is no amount of your bitching that will change that!" I’ve practically pinned him in a corner. A part of me feels like being this close put us both in a dangerous position, but I wouldn't lose. I think this is the first time I’ve been close enough to know he wears cologne, something subtle, and woodsy, in all his time here I never once knew.

“Fucking touch me again Katsuki, I fucking dare you.” I let every inch of malice fill my words. Looking him dead in the eyes. He kept my gaze, and with full intent shoved me with both hands.

And that’s it, I can see it in his eyes, he fucking hates my guts to the core. It's almost comical, I had fallen so in love with him when I saw him, only to deal with his assbaggery from day one. I could still feel the flutter I felt back then. Though now it shared with a white rage so hot my hands shake.  My heart is in my throat thinking about it, how much i love and hate him. And I guess the emotions just took over.

It's only a step before he’s pinned between the wall and my body, in the same movement I have his jaw firmly in my hands, holding his head tightly forcing it up and before he can open his mouth to ask, I have my lips square against his. His body stiffens immediately, instinctually pulling his head back and bumping the wall, his hands on my chest pressing me back, but not enough to stop me. I braced for a fight, because he hates me, I'm a fool to think otherwise.

His hand grips the cotton of my apron, pulling me closer, his free hand tugging my collar, and his lips, exactly as soft as I predicted, move with mine. It was by no means a gentle or romantic kiss, instead it felt like he'd taken making out as another challenge and one he wanted to win. Maybe it was the shock of not getting hit, or that small part of me that had been daydreaming of this for months, but my heart raced from the thrill of it and I forgot to second guess it.

His hands pulled my hair, clawing into my back, a little gasp of air before burring down. I get his enthusiasm, forgetting to ponder on what his motive was, pressing against his body, shoving my thigh between his. I bit his lip, his fingers wandered, clawing and digging into my back, leaving a bright red trail no doubt, even through my shirt. My body felt hot, and frenzied. His embrace felt like being attacked, but at this point that's all I could expect from him. 

I wanted to know how far we could go, and if by the end he'd have torn me apart, well, part of me wanted to be torn to shreds. Though it wasn't me who untucked my shirt or slid my fingers along my spine top to bottom. Though I did follow the lead and slip my own hands under the waistline of his pants and fully grope his miraculous ass. Every moment was a challenge, and if I had learned one thing about this man, he never backs down from a challenge.

My mind was taking things faster than him, though I’m sure he was thinking along the same lines, he pulled my head back by my hair pulling away my collar to sink his teeth into the crook of my neck, he'd have to be completely oblivious not to read my body language, he had to know that my hips buck, had to hear me suck in a gasp, if not feel my hands dig into him. There was intent in his actions and my mind was racing to possibilities of what he'd be willing to do with me locked in a fridge.    


As it turns out I didn’t get to find out. There was an atrocious sound, a banging of metal on metal through the door. At first, I didn't put two and two together, but Katsuki, as always was not nearly as slow. One second, he was rolling his hands against me, pulling my shirt, reciprocating my every movement, and the next he had pushed himself away from me hurriedly, trying to look remotely put together. It took an extra minute of blinking and looking around to realize that must be our rescue, before I too started a frenzied attempt to rescue my professional demeanor. 

The moment evaporated, he stood so far from me now and it was nearly impossible to imagine he'd ever been so close. I knew things weren't resolved, that things hadn't changed, but my heart raced at the thought of him now. He had to have, to some degree, wanted that, right? There was at least some part of him that was encouraging his actions. I glanced to him, he wouldn't meet my eyes. His hair is normally slicked back, but someone careless had ran their hands through it, mussing into its current messy state. I reached a hand to fix it, then recoiled, realizing the irony, but feeling like he wouldn't like me to touch him ever again.

“Your, um, hair is a mess,” I said quietly, folding my arms and trying to look like I owned the place, trying fiercely to stop my ears from turning pink. He had such a soft expression to the comment, before running his fingers through his hair, to flatten it back down.

The door was drug open from the opposite side. Leo and Yuri pulled as new hire Otebek Altin, of all people, used a crowbar to pry it open. It was weird, stepping into the kitchen where Chris laughs and congratulates me for not killing Yuuri, and I remember that I am supposed to hate him. I look to him, expecting him to look different, I don't know what exactly would change… but he's wearing that expression again, checking orders and asking about how things are. His ears are pink, but otherwise, it was as if nothing had happened. I feel my chest tighten. I let Chris know I’ll be back with lettuce, and if a fridge guy comes have him reattach the door. Then I’m in my car and I’m thinking about his lips, and hands, and wondering what it all means.

The night passes quick enough, and it's clear Katsuki wants to pretend nothing happened. He's bossy again, and scolds everyone just the same though he seems to have less of it directed at me. And I am just as confused as I was before. 

I sat at my desk at the end of the night, filing paperwork for Altin, who apparently goes to the local college for automotive and had the hammer, deadbolt pin, and crowbar all in the trunk of his car, if it wasn't his first day he'd have a bonus. One by one people clock out, grab their coats and tell me good night as they exit through the back door. Chris comes and sits on my desk trying to coax me into going out for the night.

“Drinks? Dancing? You deserve something fun after this week.” I decline, making an excuse, with a shrug he takes his coat and leaves. I'm not busy though, and honestly am running out of paperwork to do. In reality I’m waiting for a moment to talk with Katsuki.   


He's the last person to leave, as he normally is, but it's pretty clear he's been taking his time. My hands shake as soon as I notice he's there, but I act as if I am busy. He stops behind me and is quiet for a few minutes. I swear I can hear my heart.

“You…” he starts. I turn to him smiling.   


“Yes?” That sounds so eager, I need to calm down, he hasn't even finished his sentence.    


“Um…” his ears are pink, “you're not going to actually quit, right?” I am taken aback. I forgot I said that.   


“I think I can stick it out,” I catch myself fiddling with a wrinkle in my pants and I lace my fingers. He nods. There is something more he wants to say, I can see it in his eyes. I don't know what it might be, a threat maybe to call HR, or maybe he'll slide the papers off my desk and lay out here and now. I don't know, and I think I never will know with him.    


He absently picks dirt from under his nail, then nods turning to the door “good to hear, this place needs you… probably more than it needs me.” He mumbles the last part, but I catch it. “Um, good night…” he calls.

“Night…” I watch him go, fiddling with the wrinkles in my pants, trying to figure out this man. His mind is going, and he is clearly so smart, i can't guess what he's thinking. I not so subtly watch him put on his coat, pulling a hat from his pocket, fiddling with it and then turning to me.

“I, don't hate you,” he looks to his hands tugging on his hat, “you're one of the most incredible, quick witted, suave, men I have ever met, you're built for this business, and you're restaurant thrives with you at it's helm," he shrugs looking at the ceiling, "I... guess I come off as aggressive, because I want to keep up.” 

It kinda clicks then, this is the real Yuuri Katsuki, the one Chris comments so fondly of, and the one my kitchen adores when I don't come in. This was probably the Yuuri Katsuki, frantically trying to pull my clothes off in a fridge. I felt a pit at the thought that all this time I'd been pining over a man I thought didn't exist, and he was right here, the entire time, waiting to be kissed in a fridge I guess. No, it's more than that, he's always been there, I'm the idiot who made him feel less by constantly doubting his every move out of my own stupid pride, I honestly created the Yuuri Katsuki I hated so vehemently. It made my heart ache to think that this whole time he was right there, waiting for me to cooperate, but my stubborn nature forced him into someone unrecognizable.

“don't sell yourself short, I talk too much when i'm tired, we need you,” is all I can say to try and amend for this whole thing, like some jackass. He smiles a little to himself, giving a soft, “Thanks” before he turns away from me to leave. I can't help feeling like this is wrong, something needs to happen, we need to talk, and yet he's walking away. His hand touches the door knob and it feels like I’m losing something. My heart is in my throat and it's as if I'm watching the door to an elevator close. Maybe I'm a little silly, but I stand reaching a hand forward.

“Yuuri, wait!” He stops looking back a little surprised at how urgent I sound. “I'm sorry, about the fridge…I shouldn't have, said... er done... well, any of that. I wasn't thinking.” I wave my hand, and he looks down shaking his head.   


“Ah, no, don't worry…” he sounds a little disappointed. Maybe he isn't, and i am just stupid and hopeful, but I jump at the opportunity.

“if you're willing, I think that I owe you something, dinner? Drinks? Something?” I feel dumb and brace for rejection. B ut he looks up at me smiling a little, and i that expression is the exact one I fell in love with, soft, kind and inviting. I wish it wasn't socially uncalled for to randomly kiss people, because i want to throw myself on him again, especially since there is a chance he'd kiss me back. But I have to hold back before I lose myself completely.   


“Dinner sounds, great.” His voice sounds a little reserved, like he's holding back. I swallow, feeling shy and stupid, then nearly trip over myself trying to grab my coat.

“I know a place that's open till midnight, they changed their menu recently, but I have never been disappointed,” I type in the security password in, stepping out first and holding the door open for him.

“I'm game,” he pulls a hat, and I hate that with the smallest opportunity for affection I tun into a teenage boy, but damnit I want to wrap my arm around his waist. I diplomatically lock the doors instead. We walk to the last cars in the lot, and I pause.   


“Um Katsuki, I plan on drinking a little, you can drive, if that would make you feel better,” I warn. But he continues to the passenger side.

“I can drink more if you drive, it's been a day,” he leans an arm on the top of the car, his nose is a little pink, but I’m not sure if it's from the cold, or because he probably knows that he's a flirty drunk. “Would it be weird though, if I asked you to call me Yuuri? If not just for tonight?” The implications of “tonight” make me wonder if he let Chris see him flirty, if just to make my heart race. 

“It wouldn't be, but you'll have to call me Victor.” I unlock the car, feeling a smile grow on my face, not the fake one, but my genuine honest to god smile, because I just pictured him calling me by my first name and it sounds amazing. god, if he breaks my heart, I don't think I can recover, but than again, I am use to his abuse.

“Done deal,” he flicks the car door open and sits in my passenger seat. I'm grinning dumbly, and I can tell, he probably can too. I must seem like such a child, to be this excited, but I can't help it. in the car he touches my thigh for a brief moment and I know when he said dinner, he meant he was up for anything, and the way he laughs, and turns pink when i tell a joke, makes me worry less that my heart might shatter. 

I probably am childish as he says, and shouldn't be so eager, but I can't help it, after all, I’ve been waiting for this since the first moment he asked if he could take my order.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My bro commented on a need for Victor and Yuuri shut in a fridge, so I did it. I may or may not need to rewrite the ending, but seeing as college is kicking my ass, this is going to probably be where this ends for now.
> 
> dedicated to Kitty; hopefully it's aight.


End file.
